Yggdrasil
by Winter Still
Summary: In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan recieves the power to change the world. .:BalthierVaan:.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **YukariYoukai

**Rating: **T… for TEEN!

**Pairing: **Bathier/Vaan

**Summary: **In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan is given the key to the universe. AU

Chapter One:  "_A victim of Laughing Chance_"

"Why the hell does Rabanastre have to be so damnably hot?"

"Who knows," replied the town gossip's companion, in a voice tinged with amusement. "Maybe it has something to do with having a desert on all sides, hm?"

The woman wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. "Ha. Ha. I just can't wait for the Rains. Speaking of, did you hear about that woman who left for that villager?"

"You mean that Giza village?" Vaan let the conversation slip from his attention. Adults usually talked about boring things that he didn't care about, or understand. He had seen the woman before she left. She was walking with her husband and one of those traveler bags that Migelo sold. Honestly, she looked happier than a lot of people he had seen that day. She smiled at him and her husband bought her five lilies. Five! Vaan thanked him demurely, but internally he rejoiced. He could have bread! The fresh kind! And he didn't have to spend twenty minutes making sure he had taken out all of the worms.

At any rate, he didn't want to hear anything bad about her, so he moved further down the plaza, his oversized basket of Galbana Lilies knocking gently against his knees.

-

Twelve year old Balthier smiled at Fran's complaining. Her scowl deepened as she continued. "Why dost your father continue to try to introduce us to the world beyond the wood? It's loud and the colors are ugly." She paused for breath as a particulary large Seeq passed. Her nose crinkled cutely. "And it _smells._" Balthier's gaze traveled down the busy street to a small blonde boy holding a basket.

"Well, I have just seen something that might actually please you about our world," he offered confidently.

Fran whuffed. "Oh? Praytell, grant me a boon from all this chaos!" Balthier took Fran's hand and gently led her to the sidestreet where the boy stood. He smiled at the boy, who eyed him warily but hopefully. Fran's small gasp delighted him to no end.

"How much for one?"

The boy smiled beautifically. "Take it for five gil." Balthier handed over the gil, barely able to restrain himself from wiping at the smudge of dirt across the boy's nose. The boy critically gazed at his basket before he selected one for him. "It's the prettiest," he offered in way of explanation.

Fran eyed the boy distrustfully. "How old are you?"

"Me?" The blonde scratched at his already tousled head. He needed a bath, Balthier could see. With a lot of hot water and a rough cloth. "Migelo says he found me when I was just a babe... but that was around the time the queen died…. Her daughter's like ten or something right?" The urchin laughed. "I don't really know. I'd guess about eight or somfink. But why's it matter to you anyway? I mean, not that I mind, it's nice to have someone sorta care once in a while, but I don't see the point." Fran growled softly in frustration.

"Another reason your world disturbs us so," she nagged at Bathier. She dug into the pouch she strapped at her side and pulled out a small black bead. "Take this," she ordered the boy.

"Thanks! It's really warm. …What is it?"

Fran's patience was already worn with the monstrosity of Dalmasca and of leaving the wood, even if it was temporary. Her mind was filled to the brim with the thoughts and actions of the Dalmascan culture she would report back to her sisters. And she was, above all, very tired. In light of this, she grabbed Balthier's dagger and neatly sliced into the urchin's dirty palm before either could react.

"Fran," Balthier called in alarm, searching for his handkerchief to staunch the bleeding.

"Whatcha' do that for," the boy asked of her, his watery eyes watching her with betrayal. Her eyebrow twitched.

"Look. At. The. Bead," she managed. The blonde opened his palm to watch the bead absorb the blood staining his hand and slowly heal the wound. He looked at her with the same amount of amazement. Fran took a deep breath, summoning the strength of her tree to her. "It will protect you," she explained with her eyes carefully tracing the boy's features. He would be important, her tree told her, otherwise He would not have reacted. "It is a part of the wood."

"The wood?"

"It will grow with you," Fran continued, completely ignoring him so she could get this over with and _go home. _"It is a part of the wood, and now it is a part of you. Keep it safe." Throughly annoyed with the whole situation, she stalked off without saying goodbye. Balthier offered him a hasty smile and his handkerchief 'in case it starts bleeding again' before he hurried after his fair-haired companion.

"Fran," Balthier gasped when he finally caught up with her. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"I see." Balthier caught his breath and quickly matched her strides. "May I ask why--?"

"The green spirit commanded it." Balthier mulled over her comment for a moment before he tapped her shoulder softly. "What," she asked coldly.

"Your lily." Fran's pace finally slowed as she carefully took the lily from Balthier. Her smile was small and matronly.

"He takes good care of them. But his lilies worry because Vaan is always alone. Humes are not oft solitary as we Viera."

"Vaan? The boy who sells the Galbana lilies?"

"Who else," Fran snapped. Balthier only smiled and moved his hands in a placating manner.

"I meant no harm," he soothed. Fran stroked the petals softly and did not reply, but Balthier knew he was forgiven.

**Pause.**

**Author's Notes: **Well, it seems this might just be THE FIC. The one I _finish_ when I say I'll finish it. Not abandoning everyone else, don't worry, just giving myself… Just… Juicing the battery. This will be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **YukariYoukai

**Pairing: **Vaan/Balthier

**Summary: **In return for a flower, Vaan recieves the power to change the world. AU; Balthier/Vaan

**Chapter: **2/?: _"Thou art as Beautiful as Passing Night"_

**Notes: **Beware the time skip! Vaan is now 17.

_Fire._

Vaan awoke to the high pitched screeching of the trees and --- wait. Trees didn't screech. He ran a hand over his face, trying to restore some semblance of calm, and grimaced when he smeared sweat on his cheeks. He leaned on the head board of his bed and rested his hands on the general roughness of the blankets tangled 'round his legs. It was early morning, cool and grey. His head throbbed with the echo of the nightmare and his gut twisted with the feeling of Something Not Right.

Slowly, he pushed the bedsheets aside and clambered out of bed, leaning his head out of the hole in the wood bungalow that counted as a window. The chilled morning air led his mind to full awareness and his eyes widened. The screeching was no dream; it had not come from the trees, as he initially thought, but from a moogle. The 'kupo-po-po!' was uttered so quickly as to make a sound resembling gibberish to the listener caught unaware. Vaan quickly grabbed his satchel and his weapon – a handsomely crafted sword called Platinum, who he had stolen from a some-such fiend on his travels --- and pursued the shrill cry of alarm.

He hazarded a guess at the identity of the moogle --- Locke, perhaps, or Terabitha judging from the pitch of the shriek --- while he rushed further into the wood, desperate not to lose the sound. The early morning passed into decent waking hours, but Vaan had still not located the moogle. The shrieks had stopped completely, with the odd crash or ominous thump reverbrating through the rotted wood planks telling him how close he was. He wondered if the Overseer had roused yet, or even stopped fussing over deadlines long enough to sleep.

The canopy thickened as he blindly pushed further on, until he slipped on the slick sap oozing from one of the branches he prowled on and slammed his fragile hume cranium on the unrelenting wood of… the Wood. He swore loudly in surprise, rubbing at the abused area of his head until it ceased to make his vision blur. After he checked that his satchel and weapon were secure at his waist --- thank Ivalice for pure luck his leg hadn't been lopped off by his clumsiness --- he rose, albeit slowly. Upon which, he cursed again… Mentally, of course. The Salikawood had passed into complete silence.

Slowly, slowly he pulled his sword from its position on his waist and regulated his breathing. It wouldn't do to panic; no, not at all. A harsh stomp made his head snap to view behind him. His sword moved from almost-ready to slice in the next instant and Vaan yelled: "Put him DOWN!" Because from the mouth of a Nightmare, fused with what had probably been a lightning elemental, dangled Locke. The grim satisfaction that he had indeed been right didn't register in Vaan's conscious mind. He charged.

---

Balthier, aged two and twenty years, was _bored._ He had to finalize the plans for a farming town out past the Salikawood. Honestly, he could care less if every backward, grubby low class farmer had their terribly small patch of land to shit on, but his Great and Wunderful _father_ had 'entrusted' him to do a good job. 'En_trusted._' His father never trusted anyone to do a job he could do himself. And there wasn't a job in all of Ivalice that Great and Wunderful father would admit to not having the knowledge or skill to complete. Balthier sighed, pushing aside musings of his egocentric father in favor of checking the meticulous detail of Nabudis' blueprint.

…

…

"_Sigh."_

Maybe he would go for a walk. It was probably some ungodly hour and… _Yes,_ Balthier confirmed as he stepped outside with his battle axe strapped to his side – in case of emergency; this was, afterall, an uncleansed swampland – it _was_ an ungodly hour and by all rights he should be asleep with his blood wool sheets pulled firmly above his gently pillowed head. He sighed again, oppressed by the helplessness of it all, and strolled into the Salikawood. _A nice brisk walk,_ he thought, _to clear the mind. _Of course, Balthier could never get what he wanted.

---

_Fucking_ elemental horses and their _fucking _retractable horns and their _fucking _lightning and just _FUCK._ Vaan stumbled forward and fell to his knees.

His head fucking _throbbed. _

Locke was sprawled in front of him, unconscious. Vaan reached for him, even as his vision wavered, because he knew if he could just pick up the moogle, he could make his way to the bungalow. Trembling from his previous exertion, he leaned forward. The grains of wood in the planks below him swirled and he closed his eyes to guard against the dizziness. _Fucking wood,_ he added for good measure. He sensed more than felt his necklace move off of his clavicle. There, securely wrapped in a old monogrammed handkerchief, swung his instigator --- his propagator, his _'der wille de macht'_ --- from a thick necklace of thrush. He felt it thrum once, strongly enough that the rotted planks bit further into his knees, and then his trembling arm stilled; he blacked out.

---

"Clear the mind indeed," huffed Balthier. The damned boy he carried on his back was no feather weight, despite how skinny and helpless he looked sprawled in the midst of Balthier's path after only a few minutes of walking. _A few minutes_, thought Balthier. Not even a decent hour to himself. It was so _unfair._

The soft, shallow breaths tickling his neck were no boon either. None at _all._

---

Vaan woke up in a sweat for the second time that day. His heart pounding, his muscles aching and a smug-looking stranger eyeing him from a desk. "Where…" Vaan paused as he felt the cloth shift under his hand. It seemed very expensive. Was it blood wool? He recalled selling large amounts of the raw material at the bazaar after his stint in the Giza Plains, but had never once seen the finished product. The stranger snorted delicately. It didn't sound like a snort at all to Vaan, who spent a lot of his youth near Seeqs or Beings with Lots of Phelgm. Vaan glared. "Who are you?"

If the blood wool sheets and the delicate "snort"-ing didn't give him away, then the introduction sure did. "I am called Balthier van Bunansa of the Archades. Chief Surveyor of the land right outside of this room, and of the highest class of Archadian Noble." To this, Vaan treated the stranger – _Balthier van Bunansa – _to a real snort, equivalent to the lower levels of Seeq incredulity and phelgm-clearing. Balthier crinkled his nose. "And yet I sense these titles carry no leverage with you."

"However did you guess," asked Vaan, mouth twisting into a sneer that only an orphan could love.

"…At any rate, I would think an exchange of like information is in order."

The blonde blinked in surprise, then collected himself enough to mutter. "I don't have any titles."

"A _name_ would suffice."

Vaan snorted soft enough that any Seeq in the area surely wept at the _Hume-_ness of it. "Vaan. I don't have a last name, so don't bother asking."

Balthier smirked. "As I see it, _Vaan_, you are in _my_ debt."

"Oh yeah?" Vaan bristled. "How is it my fault you were by moogle encampments?"

"Moogle encampments? Vaan, I found you not one hundred yards from here."

"Liar!" The blonde hissed. There were no homes such as this near the bungalows, he knew it.

Balthier raised his hands placatingly. "I think it early in our aquiantance for accusations." Vaan glared, but the Bunansa remained uncowed. "Your debt?" he offered.

"I should think a 'Hell no' would suffice," Vaan snarled, pushing off of the bed and stomping past Balthier.

"The exit is the second door on your left," Balthier called after him.

"_Slam_," replied his bedroom door. He leaned back in repose. Now that _That_ was taken care of, he could get down to business. Enough of the philanthope act, he was a Chief Surveyor! Shuffling a few papers with an air of self-importance, Bathier cleared his throat and began to read. Within a few sentences, he found his boredom levels threatening to drive him to do something stupid again.

"I won't stand for it," he declared to the document in his hand.

"Neither will I," a grave voice replied. Balthier spun gracefully to meet Vaan's scowl with a pleasant smile.

"Twice in one day? We're becoming fast friends, you and I."

"What have you done with my necklace? And what of my weapon?"

"You had no such items on your person."

Vaan did not lower his smoky gaze. He was staring so intensely that Balthier half-expected some sort of beast to leap out of the boy's eyes and consume him whole. "All you do is _lie,"_ he growled. Balthier smirked that infuriating smirk again and Vaan felt his chest heave in one big fiery breath. He wanted to rip this man into quarters, string him by his loins and tear off his jaw so he could stop twisting his mouth into sardonic posture.

Being a Chief Overseer came with the hazard of becoming ridiculously observant, which amused Balthier to no end. It also helped him out of a few tight spots, consequently, so he knew Trouble before He even came knocking at his door. Just like he knew this boy was very close to doing something very stupid.

"If you don't believe my story, why not let me guide you to the place I found you? You can search the area, if you like." And while you're on a fool's errand, thought Balthier, I will very securely lock the door and board up the windows.

"No," Vaan protested. "I refuse to leave without my necklace. You have it, because I could not have taken it off."

The brunette rose with all the grace handed to him by Archadian Nobility and serenely walked right out of his bedroom. "Coming?" The desert-hume muttered a particulary filthy oath he had learned from a Bangaa and followed.

_Notes: _I hope they don't sound terribly Victorian. I am trying to keep it within the game's level of archaic-speak, but cut scenes ---enraptured by them as I am--- are few and far between. At any rate, I would like to thank all who reviewed. Lying I am not when say I: "I enjoyed every one!!" By the by, RISOKURA, I see that you have updated _Sway_ and I REFUSE to be left behind! Rwar!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **YukariYoukai

**Pairing: **Vaan/Balthier

**Summary: **In return for a flower, Vaan recieves the power to change the world. AU; Balthier/Vaan

**Chapter: 3**/?: _"On the shores of eternity"_

**Notes: **And where has Penelo gone?

---

Penelo leaned against the polished counter on her elbows and sighed. She had seen to all the new arrivals, and completed maintanence on recent visitors. She even got headway on Migelo's order. By all accounts, she should have been exhausted, but as she stared at passerby through the shops wall-to-ceiling windows, she only felt…

_I miss Vaan._

---

Said blonde was currently marching behind Balthier, mentally listing the indignities he could make the Archadian suffer for this. _I could do this and I could do __**that!**_Vaan wasn't going to let that damned man out of his sight! He was a liar, Vaan knew. And the first chance the Archadian got, he would ditch Vaan --- weaponless, but not completely defenseless --- and go his own merry way. _Probably back to the Archades to brag to all his noble friends about how he came across a helpless orphan_, Vaan thought darkly, _and "helped" him._ Pssh. Yeah, right.

Balthier, of course, didn't know Vaan's thoughts _exactly,_ but he could guess. Which was why, after their five minute trot to the edge of the Salkawood, he gestured for Vaan to go in first.

"What?" Vaan questioned irritably at the man's hands.

"Why don't you go in first," Balthier suggested. "You might recognise the area---" _and go __home_"---and remember where you dropped your effects."

"How about you go in first," Vaan drawled, crossing his hands over his (barely covered) chest. "And then we'll see about who remembers what."

"I have no idea what you're trying to say." Balthier trained his face into a placid expression and waited.

Vaan scoffed. "For a noble, you are pretty stupid." _That little BRAT! _The chief surveyor did not, however, let this ruffle the cool, self-satisfied look he was giving Vaan. _I saved his life, and all he can do is toss insults. Found without weapons, food or gil. I should have known. _"I'm telling you to show me where you 'found' me."

Balthier shot him a blank look. "And you couldn't just say that."

"I just did."

---

Locke ran in circles, squeaking. "What is it, kupo?" questioned Thorne, a brown moogle with white wings, distracted on his way to the gate construction site.

"I lost Vaan, kupo-po!!"

"OH NO, KUPO!" Thorne joined Locke in his circle-running. "What are we going to dooooo?" they wailed in unison.

---

Vaan crossed his arms again. "You found me there? Yeah, right."

"_Sigh._"

"Don't act like you're the injured party here." Balthier pulled out a scroll with a flourish, and spread it open on the tree trunk they stood on for Vaan to see. "That's nice. What is it?"

"A map of the Salikawood." Balthier explained slowly. "See where I'm pointing? That's where we are right _now._"

The blonde scowled. "I'm not a fucking idiot. And even if that is where we are now, that just makes it even more impossible for you to have found me."

"Oh?"

Vaan knelt in front of Balthier, and pointed to where the bungalows where. "That's where I live. And around here," Vaan dragged his finger down a few inches as he spoke. "is where you should have found me." Balthier judged the distance between his finger and Vaan's. True enough, the waif was right. There was no plausible way for Vaan to travel that far even if he miscalculated. For all his stupidity and brashness, Vaan didn't seem the type to get lost easily. _But then, _Balthier justified, _his type never are._

"Perhaps you miscalculated the distance?" Balthier suggested hopefully. Maybe he was an anomaly --- easily lost, or mislead. The chance was on level with that of a cocktrice singing opera… but perhaps if one trained properly…?

He should have anticipated the glare.

"Perhaps," Vaan repeated in mockery. "You should show me where you actually found me." And _perhaps_ Balthier could find himself a nice sturdy branch to hang himself from. Or the boy --- it was a toss up.

"_Vaan,_" he managed to grind out. He paused, carefully extracted his hands from where they tugged at his hair, and composed himself before continuing. "This is pointless. I am leaving."

"What?"

"I've done my part. There is no need for me to stay and convince you. Convince yourself." Balthier gracefully turned and strolled in the direction of his temporary lodging. "And you can keep the map."

"…pompous bitch."

---

The overseer wiggled his nose. "Just what is going on here, kupo? If you don't start working, we'll be even more behind schedule!"

Several moogles paused in their cry of 'Oh Noes, kupo!' to let Locke tell his story. "I was chased by a most FIENDISH monster, kupo! It made my fur stand on its ends. And then Vaan rescued me… at least, I think it was Vaan, kupo, seeing as I only saw him for a second."

A look of concentration passed the white face of the overseer, before he carefully asked. "And just where is Vaan now?"

The majority of the moogles began to keen as Locke explained: "I don't _know,_ kupo-po!!" Thusly was the most responsible of the group drawn into the moogle whirlwind of grief and worry.

---

_Vaan,_ began Penelo's mental letter. _How are you? What have you been doing? Come back to me soon._ No, no. _Come back… home… soon._

_Migelo and I both miss you. The flowers miss you too. _Penelo paused. That sounded… maudlin. And yet sentimental enough to convince Vaan into a visit. She ignored it and plowed on. _Kytes' sickness has worsened. No one knows if he'll get better. Maybe if he sees you…?_

That sounded nothing short of desperate. With a sound of disgust, she abandoned all thoughts of her letter and returned to Migelo's order.

---

_Dammit!_ Vaan thought. He searched every endless plank and dead tree. He scoured every congregation of flora and rare rock formation. Still, there was no sign of his necklace or weapon. _I knew he was a liar. _

Vaan leaned listlessly against the body of a thick, wide tree and watched the night banish the last of the sunlight. He ached. The weapon he could do without, but that necklace… Somehow, he felt abandoned, lost. Over the course of the day, he felt it creeping upon him slowly. It threatened to swallow his mind whole. Under every rock, behind every tree, it lurked, waiting. It was old, and had plenty of time to wait. Breathing softly against the back of Vaan's neck, it sought to tease him, trick him into stupidity, break him into submission. He would belong to ---- "_NO!!!"_

The urchin rushed up and swung blindly behind him. He felt his hand connect with something terribly solid and broke into a run. It was behind him now, it would catch him… because he had no where to run.

"Balthier!" he screeched, as he viewed the red eaves of the cottage-house. "Balthier!!" He was panicked, chest-heaving, eyes-burning, gods-be-damned _scared. _When he sighted the ridiculous not-brown of Balthier's hair, he was surprised to find that the burning of his eyes sublimated to tears. But he did not stop running; he could not feel it anymore –that thing, that feeling, that old, old thing-- , but he knew it was there… waiting… waiting… A careless step and he fell, paces from Balthier's door.

"_Vaan_?" goggled the befuddled Archadian. The blonde lifted his dusty face and watched the last of his tears fall into the dirt, amazed and so, so relieved.

---

"What is that stuff," Vaan asked warily from under the blanket he was wrapped in.

"Hot chocolate." Carefully, as if the large, innocous-looking mug was a carrier of a terrible plague, Vaan accepted the drink.

"It's hot."

"Hence the name," Balthier added with a smirk. He watched as the boy cautiously sipped at it, found it rather good, and decided to hold the mug as if it were the most precious jewel in the world. "I see it is too your liking." Vaan nodded, taking another, larger, sip. He waited until Vaan's shoulders drooped a fraction, before he took a brave stab at the wooly gator in the room. "Are you going to tell me---"

"_Yes,_" Vaan whispered. The candle light gave his face long, dark shadows, making him look haunted. "I panicked. You were the first person I thought of." The brunette stared at him carefully. Vaan fidgeted, then mumbled something that sounded like: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Are you that afraid of being alone in the wood?"

The boy's breath hitched. "Y-you… can't answer a question with a question," he voiced unsteadily.

"I can do whatever I want," Balthier retorted smugly.

"No, you can't. But I bet you've had people tell you that all of your life. I guess you expect me to do the same, huh?"

"That is not---"

"No, it's fine," Vaan interjected as he carefully placed the mug on the floor, and slowly peeled off the blankets. "Great Lord Balthier," he said with his head lowered in deference as he knelt on one knee. "Thank you for opening your shit shack to the poor, pathetic, vagrant orphan, who wouldn't know his arse from his head if you hadn't rescued him."

"Vaan," he tried.

The blonde lifted his head. "Great Lord Balthier," he continued bitterly. "Do us poor, pathetic vagrants all a favor and _fuck off._"

"Vaan...!" The door closed before he could properly form an answer. "_Goddamnit!"_ He kicked at the mug Vaan left, and felt mollified when it cracked against the floor. Thank Ivalice he hadn't wanted carpeting. And why the hell was he so angry anyway? Idiot _orphan_ boys --- he really shouldn't have been surprised, even the poorest of the poor have last names --- shouldn't matter to him, have never mattered to him. Just because he carried one home didn't mean he was… attached. Because he wasn't. Not even a little. The boy was a crappy conversationalist, didn't trust _him_ at all --- the one who saved his bloody life!---, and most of all he was filthy. When was the last time his skin was near water?

But he had come to Balthier when he panicked. _You were the first person I thought of. _Which meant Balthier was the only person he thought of. Wasn't that grand?

Balthier's attentions were diverted by the growing puddle of hot chocolate on his floors and he sighed, opening the door to his room to find some damned rag when he was stopped short. Vaan, self-acclaimed 'vagrant orphan,' was looking at the front door as if it were the only barrier between him and certain death.

"Vaan," he said gently. _If the boy didn't get it this time…!_

"It's not that I'm afraid," he admitted softly. "Of being alone, I'm not afraid of that. I'm used to it."

"Then why come to me?" Balthier asked, and realized they were whispering.

"I told you why."

"No, you didn't. Not the whole of it."

Vaan turned to look the Archadian in the eyes, distracting Balthier slightly with the way the moonlight caught his too-pale hair. "There is something in the woods. And it wants _me._ I need to find my necklace so I can leave. I need to get out of here."

"Why is that trinket so important to you?"

"…I just need to find it, that's all." Balthier knew not to push his luck. "Look, I'm not going to stay here, okay, so you can stop worrying."

"I am not one prone to worry."

Vaan snickered and turned his face to the door again. " 'Cause you can do anything you want, right?"

"Quite. Including opening my shit-shack to poor, pathetic orphans who wouldn't know their---" Vaan moved quickly, covering Balthier's soft lips with his rough, calloused hand.

"Don't even think of licking me," he muttered darkly.

"Mp mmph mmmoh." Vaan raised a dark eyebrow.

"What?" The Archadian grabbed Vaan's wrist and, after a bit of a struggle, pulled it away from his jaw.

"I said: 'that is disgusting.' Your hand is filthy; why would I even want to lick it?"

The boy blushed. "Just… don't worry about it."

"Actually, I shall. Because I can --- _ouch! _That's it." Balthier grabbed Vaan's wrist again and tugged him along, and while the blonde struggled, he noted with satisfaction that Balthier was favoring his right leg.

"Ack! Gerrof! I won't go!"

"You will, and you'll _like it._"

"Noooo!" In all honesty, it wasn't as bad as Vaan was making it sound. Balthier wasn't going to chain him up and whip him for assaulting his person, or anything barbaric like that. He was just going to toss Vaan into a large tub of freezing cold water. Which he did with a smile, but that can hardly be counted against him, can it?. "B-b-balthier!" Vaan cried.

"Scrub well now!" he called gleefully as he shut the door.

"I ha- ha- HATE you!"

_Notes:_ The chapter that sunk into the sludge of absolute romantic drivel. I actually had to flay myself a few times to edit out all the unrelentlessly sappy CRAP. Still, it reins supreme. Gah. I choke upon its syrupy sweetness!

_Next Chapter:_ Just what the hell is Migelo ordering, anyway?


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **YukariYoukai

**Pairing: **Vaan/Balthier

**Summary: **In return for a flower, Vaan recieves the power to change the world. AU; Balthier/Vaan

**Chapter: 4**/?: _"Bisson Rheum"_

**Notes: **And just what the hell is Migelo ordering, anyway?

When Vaan was born, his mother died. This is all he remembers for the first few years of his life. Then, Reks arrives, light-dark hair and caring eyes. Soft, boyish features, lightly tanned by working in the desert sun. The next few years are filled with laughter, _Philia_ and the sweet juice of stolen fruit. To be sure, these are the happiest years of his life, but he can remember none of it in clarity. When he tries, all he can retrieve are hazy, concentrated images like Reks' smile and the broken skin of a pomegranate. That is enough, for now.

There is a moment of sorrow, although Vaan knows not the reason. After this lapse in his memories, it is understood that he will never see Reks smile again. And he moves on.

Penelo takes up the majority of his memory after this, but now there are auxillary characters: Migelo, Kytes, the Seeq in Lowtown, the Bangaa who skulks in the bazaar. He isn't happy, but he isn't sad, and he's busy enough that he doesn't need to think about anything that happened before he met Penelo. If it is a blessing, he doesn't say, mostly because he doesn't want to think, anymore.

---

"_Vaan!_"

He is sleeping in a pile of straw that Migelo keeps in his storeroom. He doesn't care why it is there, only that it is there and that he can sleep on it without disturbance. Relatively.

"_Vaan,_" Penelo tries, again. She spies him asleep on the hay and kicks him in the shin, hard.

"ACK! Geez, Penelo," he slurrs good naturedly, rousing at last.

"Vaan," the slim teen scolds. At 19, she is three years his senior, and she goes to all lengths to show it. "You were supposed to help me with the shop today."

"Right, I remember." He counters Penelo's snort with a sloppy smile. "I'm going right now!"

Penelo's shop, Vaan's forgotten task, is tucked between Yamoora's gambits and Montblanc's Hall. Vaan has become a fond friend of each of the three owners, as his day is usually divided between favors for all of them. As he picks straw out of his hair, a daunting task for anyone with eyes, he mentally maps out what was missing in the inventory when he last checked at yesterday's closing.

"And don't think you can get out of it by taking the long way around," Penelo continues, a discordant buzz in his ears. "This time, I'm _walking_ you the the South Gate."

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, brushing her off in the tone of voice he knows she knows he knows she _hates._ Which is why he isn't too surprised when she whacks him upside the head.

"Sound a little more grateful, huh!" He directs a careless smile at her as they reach the massive dark green doors. He is grateful. Really, he is. Grateful that when he pretends he can't remember anything before he was twelve, she pretends to believe him. Grateful that she continually offers him the spare bed in her cramped apartment above the shop, even though they both know he's a street rat and that's all he'll ever be.

But he doesn't like to think about that, so he firmly steers his mind toward inventory, again. He's halfway down the tiled path to the Giza Plains when he remembers two things. One, he doesn't have any hi-potions on him and two, that the dirk he's carrying won't put a dent in Giza's beasts, especially not during the Rains. Vaan doubles back, opting to use the Moogling this time, because an irate Penelo is a violent Penelo.

He retrieves his Longsword from the Armory and grabs a satchel of hi-potion from Migelo before he feels it. Around his neck, securely wrapped in a monogrammed hankerchief, dangled a promise of security, snugly anchored against his clavicle by a thick necklace of flax. A small vibration starts from the soft spot just above the beginning of his pectorals, and spreads to the rest of his body. When it ends, he self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, hoping to pass off his actions to anyone looking as those of one suffering from a chilled passing breeze.

It is then he realizes he stands in the spot, the exact spot, where he met that girl. And that boy, who gave him… A pale hand doesn't quite stroke the worn, but whole, handkerchief. A grey splotch and a brown splotch, that's all he remembers, he reminds himself firmly. _All_ he remembers.

---

Penelo's father worked for all of the years of her childhood. When she awoke, he was already at work, and when she slept, it was because she fell asleep waiting for him. Penelo has only seen her father a handful of times; the last time, he gave her the keys to the shop and kissed her on the forehead (wrinkled, work-worn fingers stroking her arms oh so _gently.)_

She was fifteen, then. Six months later, after the inexplicable grief of losing the one man she would have liked to known, she finds a malnourished twelve- year old selling Galbana Lilies on her way to her economy lessons from Migelo. Of _course_ she takes him home. But Migelo doesn't teach fools, not even to pay off life debts: some yet unnamed part of her mind registered _opportunity_ where the softer, more humanity-oriented part only saw _need._

---

Being Alone is the only thing Penelo fears. She knows enough about business to make it amongst her silver-tongued, sharp- toothed competition, and she was raised in the streets long enough to know how to survive on nothing. But there is no lesson on how to best wander-lust. What she saw in her father's weary eyes is reflected in Vaan's own smoky orbs. It scares her on a level she refuses to acknowledge, but she does what she can to keep him, as long as she can. He is brother, father, son rolled into a thin, pale package and she holds onto him with as much tenacity as she dares.

She is old enough to recognize what chained her father to her was labour and obligation, and she is needy enough ---shameless enough--- to use it for her own purposes. It serves her well, for a few good years, but Vaan is not her father (_brother, son_) and his feet just won't stop itching no matter how hard Penelo works at making them numb.

He leaves her on a bright, hot day. It's the Rains in Giza, so be careful, she says, hair in a tousle, eyes not stinging, throat not tight. (_just a normal day)_ Come back to me, she doesn't say as he turns away, bright bright bright as the sun in never-ending summer. Come back to me, she doesn't say as his old, wrinkled eyes close in relief, trusting her in Migelo's Lazarushian hands, his own warm, calloused hands leaving indelible scars of longing as they slip away from her slim arms.

_Come back to me._

---

"Mm… Yes! The elegant spray of the… and the straight backbone presented by the… is this a… oh, oh my!! A work of art!" Migelo turned, merchant robes whispering to the hard floors, and declared: "You have done _most_ well, Mistress Penelo."

The slender blonde offered a crisp smile. "It's to be expected. I _did_ learn from the best, afterall."

"Inflation does not a masterpiece make. Mmm… yes."

"You're making me blush." Penelo murmured, looking carefully at the hem of his robes.

"I'm very… sorry. I can't help it when… I see something so beautiful."

"Well, take it home, already! To think I thought you a gentleman, making a girl like me pink."

"Mmm… Yes! Quite right!" And with another cry of 'masterpiece', Migelo had the feeble-looking orphan that had trailed him into the store carry the flower arrangement out. _Such delicate wrists,_ Penelo noted, but she was seeing another face holding different flowers.

---

A moogle perched upon her counter one fine day, and everything changed.

It was a beautifully fine-furred creature, with dark eyes and twitching whiskers. Penelo held down her hand to prevent herself from scratching him behind the ears. They made idle chatter, because the shop was cooler than the outside and the flowers made it smell better. "And we picked up a hume called Vaan, kupo. He's really nice, po."

"Oh," said Penelo even though she couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe.

"He has hair most peculiar. Lighter than even _yours_, kupo."

"Is he here? With you now?"

"No, no, no. He's with the Construction Guild in the Highwaste. I just came from there, kupo."

"Yeah?" Was the shop actually getting hotter?

The moogle frowned thoughtfully. "But they might have moved on by now, kupo. Gone further upward."

A moogle perched on her counter one fine day, and everything _changed._

_Will he ever come back?_

---

Vaan sneezed.

**---**

**End Notes. **

The chapter that wouldn't end. Gawd. Penelo just tapped me on the shoulder and started whispering in my ear. _Go AWAY Penelo._ It was really vexing. It was supposed to be _angst_, dammit. And the numerous pauses during Migelo's speech are his er… slurpy? Tendencies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **YukariYoukai

**Rating: **T… for TEEN!

**Pairing: **Bathier/Vaan

**Summary: **In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan is given the key to the universe. [AU

**Chapter: 5/?**_ Like a Viera, (cute for the very first time._

**Notes: **Fucking abstract flashbacks.

Fran is not one for idle thought. Time is precious, even to Viera, especially to Viera, because they know best of all nothing is Endless. No matter how long they train, no matter how well they heed the Green Word, their forest ---_they­ themselves---_ will fall.

Humes will be at the center, carnage and greed, tearing at their weakened boughs, ripping at their leafy canopy. It came as quite a surprise when the wood commanded they help a merchant hume, lost, but shining with some inner light long dimmed in the hearts of men. The hume and the Viera came to respect each other, trade and befriend. That is how, twenty years later, Fran met Balthier.

Fran, still only two feet or so, (because Viera measure early years by height, not time) was slightly amused at the speedy rate humes grow. Balthier was barely a head past her height, but looked as if he should have been a handspan taller. The merchant-hume had a son; the merchant hume wanted to continue to foster good will with the Viera after death.

(Death. Humes who grow so quickly, die just as quickly, and so they devise ways to live on through death. Fran remembers death: painted on the faces of warriors who must always be prepared, Viera or no.)

She didn't coddle him, or appeal to his ego like other girls her age did. Or at least, what Balthier guessed was her age. She didn't giggle or wear long fluffy dresses or keep Ozmone Hares as pets. Fran was the antithesis of "cute", unless one counted that thing she did with her nose. And the fact that she was just on _this_ side of pudgy, like most youngsters.

Eventually, when Balthier discovered (gratefully) that she wasn't like Anne-Marie or any other young Archadian nobility, the pair got along just fine. Which is to say, she snapped at him and he placated her. In Fran's world, she needed to be violent to protect herself. In Balthier's, evasion was the best offense. Together, they were scary-balanced.

---

Vaan cursed as he sneezed. _Stupid Balthier and his stupid ---_ Achoo!

Said stupid fat head pranced into his room with a cup of more hot chocolate to "tame the beast."

"Go screw yourself," Vaan muttered once the mug was securely in his grasp.

Balthier sighed, and ignored the comment. "I have space enough to accommodate you, happily." Vaan busied himself with the hot chocolate in lieu of a reply. "Why don't you go see if they are to your liking?"

"Is there a hammock?"

"A _what?"_

"A ham--- the thing you use to sleep on." Vaan made a semicircle that opened upward with his index fingers. "Looks like this, hangs from two ropes? Heard of it?"

Balthier used an old politician's tactic: sublimation. Instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust, he smiled and lifted his eyebrows in interest. "No, never," he answered innocently, keying Vaan in to none of his thoughts on "ham-mocks." The blonde sighed.

"_Figures,_" he mumbled. "Look," he said to Balthier. "I don't mind; I just haven't slept on one of these before." He bounced lightly, making the bloodwool shift.

"Indeed." Vaan ignored the obvious snub on his poverty with another gulp of his hot chocolate. _This stuff is really good!_

"Just don't get offended if I sleep on the floor instead."

"Why, Vaan, do you think I would spy on you while you slept?" Vaan glared, prepared to say something sharp, but Balthier cut in. "I assure you, on my honor, that I am thrice the gentleman with guests in my… quarters."

"Whatever. I'm just warning you in advance." Vaan had lived in many places in the past two years, and he had learned the cardinal rule of bunking up: different people have different sensitivities. He wasn't trying to be dramatic or anything; Vaan was just looking out for Balthier's sensitivities, like a _decent_ person. Totally wasted on the fact that Balthier was the most indecent person he had ever had the misfortune of meeting, and that said a lot.

Balthier's polite smile in response bothered Vaan for the rest of the night.

---

Smoke and shadow simmered. The Keeper had set up a barrier. There would have to be someone sent.

---

Vaan rose before dawn, again, and blearily faced the world. He crawled from under the bed --- which was way too soft for his taste --- , and stumbled to the wash basin near the curtained window. The space where the influx of air would usually awake him was filled with a transparent hardness. He pressed his hand cautiously against it --- chill to the touch. It figured the Archadian Arse would have something stupid like this. What normal person didn't like warm sunshine? Although Vaan could see it concievably being a boon in the rain.

What dazed early morning pondering was this?!

He shook his head viciously, lightly dousing the window with water droplets from his hair. No matter how comfortable he was during sleep, waking up with wits that addled was dangerous. And embarrassing.

_What now?_ He had stayed the night at the Archadian's --- and hopefully he didn't catch cold from that impromptu dip into ice water --- but he couldn't concievably _stay._ The moogles had to be worried about him.and he still had to find his necklace.

With that settled, Vaan prepared himself for another day of searching. Balthier had to have a weapon somewhere in this overdressed hovel. He eased open the door to his room, and, spying no one, continued on to Balthier's room. He held his breath as he passed the open door, sprinting into the sitting room. It was full of… books? Books upon books with that damned red trim all over the room, offset by the golden hue of the walls. He took in the whole room, noticing it had a half wall dividing it from the kitchen. Come to think of it, he was hungry…

---

Balthier groggily rolled out of bed, fully intent on starting his day with a morning Bhujerba, finishing some more of the endless work on his desk, drinking some more, and stringently avoiding Vaan. He walked into his kitchen and made a sound he Rather Wished He Didn't.

"Bwha?"

Vaan looked up from his mountain of food, corners of his mouth lightly smeared with grease. "Mmmfh."

"_Why_…" Balthier gulped down the rest as he came to a sudden realization. As casually as he could, he opened his liquor cabinet (a bit surprised to find it the same as he left it) and opened a bottle without bothering to find a glass. And so the morning passed, with Balthier irresponsibly drinking and Vaan eating him out of hovel and home. And then, Balthier, with his inhibitions all _un_inhibited, offers Vaan some too. Because if he is to go down, he won't stop at just the first flight of stairs.

"I have a high metabolism!" Vaan exclaims, tipsy but not enough to slur.

"Izat so?"

The blonde nodded emphatically. "That's why I live with the moogles. They _always_ have food."

Balthier limply motioned to his house. "We 'aven't gosh anee. " He tipped his head back for another drink, unaware of how Vaan's clouded eyes latched on his neck.

"I know!"

"I donna."

"Let's go visit the moogles!"

In the spirit of the occasion, the poor sod stumbled to his feet, ready to embark on a whole new adventure. "Lesh!"

CHAPTER FIVE END.

Ahaha. What a wonder the last few months have been!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I have no ownership of Final Fantasy XII merchandise or what-have-you save for my own mass-produced copy of the game and the plot that unravels before you now.

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **Yukari Youkai

**Rating: **T… for TEEN!

**Pairing: **Bathier/Vaan

**Summary: **In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan is given the key to change the universe. [AU

**Chapter: 6/? **_Who's your attractive paternal figure?_

**Notes: **Today's showing will be starring: DrunkOffHisAss!Balthier.

And what an adventure it was! Vaan and his newfound companion burst into the forest, armed with their wits, their pants, and of course, conventional weaponry. They didn't make it very far.

Actually, they only just made it out of the swamp. At the first sight of trees, Vaan shouted "Land Whore!" and glomped the first one he could reach. Balthier followed at a more sedate pace (read: drunken stumbling), collapsing at the tree's roots.

"Balthier," Vaan whined, "you can't go to sleep now!"

"Mm… sosh off."

"Balth_ier_."

The Overseer reached up, grabbed Vaan's wrist (after a few missed swings), and pulled the boy down. Understandably, he overbalanced and toppled into Balthier's lap. "_Sleep_," he ordered, petting Vaan's hair in what he deemed was a relaxing manner. Surprisingly, the little vagabond listened, and they both slept off their drunkness against the trunk of a tree.

---

"Honestly," Vaan laughed nervously. "I have no idea how we got like… _that_."

"Of course not," Balthier agreed facetiously while he searched his pockets for any remaining gil.

"Really, Balthier," Vaan continued. "I think it was all your fault."

"Of course it--- _excuse me?_ No, nevermind. Thanks to my folly, I have the most amazing ache of the head."

"We were both so drunk…" Vaan mused.

"Don't change the subject, please," Balthier snapped.

"You just said to forget it."

"Well, unforget it. Why doesn't your head hurt?"

Vaan snorted, and winced. Who knew snorting made hangovers worse? "It does. But it would hurt anyway with all your whining."

"…"

"Oh, come on. I'm hangover and achy all over. I'm sorry, OK? I didn't mean it."

Balthier sniffed. "You seem to have come under the impression I was offended."

"What else was I supposed to think, Mr. Silent Treatment?"

"Every other word out of your mouth annoys me."

Vaan scoffed. "Whatever."

"Are you even old enough to drink?"

"What do you think?" Balthier's intuition decided then to quietly tell him it was going to be a very long trip. Like he didn't know.

---

Thorne slept fitfully. Moogles had numbers and stamina in excess, but two-and-a-half days of running in circles screaming was enough to knock out the whole lot of them. He worried about Vaan even in his involuntary dreams. He reached out with his tiny moogle hands for the lost blonde boy. "Vaan," he cried. "Vaan!"

"Thorne, Thorne, wake up!" Someone called to him in a familiar voice, while shaking him gently.

"Va-! _Vaan,_" he squeaked. The other moogles curled around him in various states of exhaustion began to stir. "Vaan is here! Ku_poo!"_ A victorious cry rose from all the able moogles, whose blood sugar had not completely depleted.

"_Kupo!_" they shouted.

Balthier stood back. He watched with cultured disinterest as Vaan was collectively jumped on and nagged at. Somehow, they had made it just before evening. If he hadn't been so irresponsible, he could have walked back, dark or no. Of course, seeing as this was what he _wanted_ to do, his head decided to remind him, with a vicious throb of pain, just who was in charge here, puny hume. Balthier thought, rather morbidly, that he should start wanting to live life to the fullest, just to see what the odds were of getting run over by a merchant caravan.

Two hangover idiots was safer than just one. "_Dammit,_" he swore under his breath. And, of course, Vaan turned around to face him just then.

"Say something, Balthier?"

'Why can't anything go my way?!' "No, nothing," he replied, trying to keep his expression pleasant.

"Oh, hey, guys. I want you to meet Balthier. He saved me …_twice_," holding up two fingers for emphasis. True to form, his audience's eyes widened.

"T-_twice, _kupo?"

"Yep," Vaan said, putting his fists on his hips and smiling widely. Balthier couldn't help but be drawn to the fine curve they made. For purely aesthetic reasons, you understand.

Said pervert was soon awash in a moogle high tide. A crash of sound reached him all at once, the off beat tune of several moogles speaking at once.

Eventually, when the effects of whatever desert flowerthese poor beings were smoking wore off, Balthier was put up with Vaan for the night. Lucky him.

---

"Well," Vaan laughed nervously, as he led Balthier into the small bungalow. "This is it."

"Of course it is," Balthier said, gingerly sitting on what he now recognized as a "ham-mock." How… simple. Balthier let his hand sit on the rough fabric and tried not to show too much distaste. It was, apparently, just enough. He looked up at Vaan to find the boy staring at him. When he quirked an eyebrow, Vaan scowled.

"Look, whatever. I know it's not blood wool, or whatever, but it's what we've got. Deal with it, you prissy snob."

Balthier had the absolute _gall_ to look smug. "Aren't you a little too old for temper tantrums?" Vaan considered, instantaneously, frying the arse with good Thundara. Then his anger cooled and he considered sulking outside with all the grace seventeen-year-olds are wont to have. He settled on viciously swinging into his hammock (with an ease that came only after months of pratfalls), kicking his boots off in Balthier's general direction --- in hopes of one settling on his big, stupid head --- and closing his eyes, letting the rocking of the disturbed hammock lure him into sleep.

Balthier, for his part, sighed. He didn't particulary like arguing with Vaan, because, unlike arguing with someone his age, Vaan viewed logic as a suggestion more than a necessity. Although having the temper the size of a Viera-owned bazaar was amusing to watch. But it was not-so-amusing to be subject to. Which begged the question: Did Balthier _like_ Vaan? Really?

Sure, Vaan had… muscles and pretty hair. That was nice. Actually, it was really nice. Great to look at when Balthier didn't feel like listening to his voice. His _voice_, which hadn't yet been broken by maturity. Balthier smacked himself in the forehead. Just what in the name of Belias was he thinking? It wasn't like he was going to jump the boy. Because he was just that… a boy.

That settled it. He would no longer tangle himself up in some preteen dream. He was leaving in the morning, finishing the damned project on Nabudis, and going _home_, where there were no tempting, muscled children  to tempt bother him. Dammit.

He gingerly laid himself in the hammock, crossed his arms over his chest, and went to sleep with a frown on his face.

---------

…_know what you want…_

…_have what you want…_

…_pretty hume, we call…_

…_holder of the seed, we call…_

Vaan opened his eyes. The night was pitch and the stars were few. Had he dreamed?

…_know what you want…_

…_have what you want…_

He glanced over to where Balthier slept. Except he wasn't in his hammock. No matter. He had to see if what he dreamt was real.

…_underneath a starless sky…when the moon is newborn…_

It was the new moon tonight, wasn't it? Vaan let his hand tangle in his hair, briefly weighing his life over his seed. They were pretty much equal to him. "I need it," he whispered in the dark.

Balthier choose that time to walk back into the bungalow. He quirked an eyebrow at Vaan's position. "Can't sleep?"

"No, I…" Vaan dropped his hand and rose. "I had a dream. Where were you?"

"Just outside," Balthier answered, not taking offense. "The moon isn't out tonight. The night is quite enchanting."

"Ah." Vaan grabbed his vest and began to walk away, out of the bungalow.

"Where are you going?"

Vaan paused and turned from where he stood in the doorway. "Come with me."

--------

…_have it…_

…_want it…_

…_know where to go…_

Vaan grimaced and raised a hand to tug at his hair. Maybe that would help with the impending headache. "Something wrong," Balthier inquired, even though he wasn't looking at Vaan at all.

…_pretty hume, we call…_

"No. Nothing," he grit out. The goddamn _voices_ in his head wouldn't shut the FUCK up! Like hell he would tell Balthier something like that. He was far past the point where sleepiness affected his decision making. No _way_ he was telling Balthier anything to encourage the man to leave him. Vaan had no problem wandering about the bungalows, but they had been walking for about a half-hour. They were nowhere near the stupid moogles.

No way would he go it alone.

Even if Balthier was being surprisingly cooperative… or understanding… and just walking with him without asking questions. And even he had to admit Balthier's presence was calming. Soothing. Not bad. Okay, he was stopping that chocobo-speeding trail of thought _right_ there.

He peeked over at Balthier, only to find the man outright staring at him. Vaan jerked back. "What," he muttered, stomping ahead.

"Just wondering what would make a young boy like you want to walk around in the dark. What kind of secrets are you hiding, Vaan?"

Dammit. Vaan knew the cactuar-brained fool was teasing, but he couldn't help his flinch. He decided to come clean. "I had a dream, okay?"

"What was it about?"

_Stupid, Stupid, STUPID Balthier_, Vaan thought viciously. "I… look, it should be right here." In the clearing where Vaan pointed were five Mandragoras of various coloring. At Vaan's voice, they turned as one. "Shit." Balthier reached for his battle axe, and realized ---at a rather inconvenient time--- that he had left his axe back at the bungalow. Well… that was nice. "Maybe they're friendly?" Vaan asked in a voice that was an octave too high.

"JEKLFA!"cried one, and set about trying to launch a Firaga at Vaan's head.

The blonde ducked and rolled, landing on top of one of the munchkins. Balthier summoned a Blizzaga to knock the belligerent Mandragora to the ground because they were both getting out of here alive, singed or not.

CHAPTER **SIX** END.

**Reckless and Impulsive**_** an AkuRoku.**_**That fic just bought you this chapter. Appreciate and Give Thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author: **Yukari Youkai

**Rating: **T… for TEEN!

**Pairing: **Bathier/Vaan

**Summary: **In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan is given the key to change the universe. [AU

**Chapter: 7/?: **_Vain thing. You make the forest sing. You fake everything… Vain thing. _

**Notes: **Vaan's so vain. He probably thought that dream was about him. Didn't he, didn't he?

The last of them quivered and fell under Vaan's quickening. "Vaan," Balthier croaked out. The boy turned, the remnant mist making his eyes and hair glow white.

"B-balthier," he whispered. "Are you hurt?" He blinked the last of the magic away. "Can you walk?"

Balthier grimaced from where he leaned against a tree. His hand was glued to his side to staunch the bleeding of one of his more serious wounds. Damn overgrown tomatoes had sadistic tendencies when it came to inflicting wounds. The Archadian hoped he didn't have any broken ribs. "I'm more worried about you. How can you even stand?"

Vaan's brow furrowed and Balthier was vaguely reminded of the strange instance in which what one says comes true right after one says it aloud. _Speaking too soon_, he recalled as the boy's hands lifted to cover his ears. His soot covered face (from a Fira that came too close) scru "Oh my gaaaaaaaaaaaaawd. Shuddap!"

"Vaan, are you serious?" Balthier goggled at the swooning youth.

"Balthieer…" The blonde reached for him, swaying slightly, before he fell backward, flat on his back.

----

Again, with the idiot on his back, breathing gently on his neck. He had waited until his magic had regenerated enough for a Cura and then picked Vaan up as he wounds were still closing. He was right, his rib had been broken. Balthier briefly considered dragging Vaan back by his ankles, but wrote it off as a childish impulse. Besides, he didn't want Vaan to have any reason to follow him back; he was leaving in the morning.

He was leaving and he wasn't looking back.

From where it rested on his clavicle, Vaan's hand twitched. "Bal…" he rasped.

Balthier turned his head, so he could speak lowly. "Vaan? Are you awake?"

"…gur…"

"That would be a 'no,' then."

Balthier sighed and leaned Vaan carefully against a tree, so he could secure his grip. He felt a hand slide up from his clavicle to his neck. "_Pretty hume, hume of fire._"

"Excuse _me?_" He dropped Vaan like a biting tomato. "What did you just say?"

Vaan's back slid up the tree until he stood again. "_Pretty hume, we call._"

"Why are you _singing_?" And why was Vaan's head still down? Why wouldn't he look at him, damnit?

"_We know what you seek._"

Balthier stepped forward and grabbed the boy's chin. "If you think you can get… away…" Vaan's eyes were closed, but he could see rapid movement beneath them. He was still sleeping. Arms wrapped around Balthier's waist.

"_Pretty hume, hume of fire. Come to where the moon is new and the stars are hidden. Come pretty hume, holder of the seed._" He had to admit, even though this was terribly disconcerting, he thought Vaan had a nice singing voice. However, he had never noticed these kind of sleeping habits! Why did _everything_ happen to him? Why??

"Vaan," he called, shaking the boy's shoulders to wake him up. He didn't like those hands on his waist, no sire. Not in the least. "Vaan. Wake up already."

The grip on his waist tightened and those smoke-colored eyes fluttered open slowly. "…hier?"

"Wake up." To Balthier's _horror_ (not to be confused with pleasure, which made your heart beat as fast as his was beating too) Vaan leaned in, resting his head on Balthier's chest, and did not remove his hands at all.

"Mmm…"

"_Vaan._" He shoved him off.

"Ack!" he cried out as he landed on the ground. "Where's the fire?"

"Get up. I want to get back to that hammock and attempt to sleep before the night is done."

Vaan stared up at him quizzically. "Why am I on the floor?"

"I… dropped you."

"Why were you carrying me in the first place?"

Balthier coughed. "I performed a Curaga on you, but you didn't wake up, and I told you I was tired, so I thought that would be the easiest solution."

Vaan glared, then abruptly sighed and covered his eyes with a hand. "I guess you could have just left and let me wake up on my own. Thanks."

Somehow, even though the gratitude seemed sincere, Balthier was put off. He had half expected an argument, or at least Vaan to get flustered and start sputtering insults. And what about 'leaving him to wake up on his own?' What kind of person would do that? This was the Salikawood, not a vegetable garden! Did this mean Vaan had some sort of hist--- _No, no. I am __leaving__ in the morning, however soon it may now be._

While he mused, Vaan had stood up and brushed himself off. He froze when something growled in the trees behind them. They shared a glance, and then started to run.

-----

They fought two more myst-infected monsters on the way back. Balthier had never figured that Vaan's body could move like _that._ And that was just another reason he couldn't stay, because if your battle partner made your mouth go dry in the midst of a Very Serious Fight, then there really was no point to it, was there?

"Sweet, sweet home. Sweet, sweet bed," Vaan crooned, flopping onto his hammock face first. Balthier smirked at the image of Vaan's arms and legs sticking haphazardly out of that gently swaying suspended sheet as he sat in his own.

"I believe the word 'bed' is ill-used." One of the disembodied arms made a rude gesture. Balthier pulled a face, but otherwise ignored it. "How can you go to sleep with all that dirt on your face? Or did you forget your pratfall?"

"Hey!" Vaan's head popped up in a movement strangely reminescent of a Ichithon. "That was _your_ fault! You --- _ow!_" The boy curled into himself, gritting his teeth.

"Vaan?"

"G-give me …a moment." A shuddering handful of moments later, Vaan uncurled, smiling up at Balthier ruefully. "Cramp."

"Ugh," he muttered, and let himself fall backward into his bed, finally settling with his arm over his eyes. "Good _night._"

"…Hey, Balthier?"

Said man gritted his teeth. "Vaan, I am _exhausted._ I understand that you seem to have a penchant for trouble, and perhaps being chased by abnormal beasts is an everyday occurrence for you. For me, however, it is not. Please, _please_ let me sleep."

"Fine, then!" Vaan countered angrily. Balthier sighed, but thought that temper was, for once, a blessing, and slipped into sleep.

------

In the morning, Balthier woke, stumbled over to the washbasin, and mentally tallied all of his sore muscles. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ He glanced over at Vaan's hammock to see the boy staring at him.

"Hey."

"Good morning."

Vaan watched Balthier stretch and caught the man's wince. "Muscles sore?"

"We did have a high level of activity last night."

"And here I figured you one for more stamina."

"I'm willing to bet my coin purse that you're more sore than I am."

Vaan scratched his head and changed the subject. "That was a lot of strong monsters, even for Salikawood."

"You imagine some conspiracy?" He sat on his knees and leaned forward, trying to get the kinks out of his back. That was hammock living for you.

"I don't know. I'm too tired to think like that."

Balthier sat on his backside, pulled his feet in and leaned down again. When he was satisfied he stood, letting his body relax. "Why are you awake anyway?"

"I didn't sleep much," he said, but his voice was the texture of gravel and his eyes were slightly red.

"That was foolish," Balthier replied flippantly. He wasn't thinking about Vaan when he had slept, the singing strange Vaan. "Well, as much as I'd like to recuperate, I have to get my work done in a respectable amount of time. So I will be leaving your lovely company today." He bent to gather up the few items he had brought with him. "Maybe you'll sleep once you're able to concentrate on something other than my handsome countenence."

"Balthier, do you want to know why I couldn't sleep?" the blonde asked, voice oddly earnest. "It was the forest."

Balthier smiled mockingly as he straightened. "The wind in the trees keep you awake, hm?"

He cast his eyes down. "Wind? …I heard things… but not wind. The forest… was saying things. To me."

"The forest was speaking to you? I see. Well, I have to get going. Important papers to read and all that. Goodbye, Vaan."

"No wait. _**Balthier**_" A tangle of vines dropped over the door as Vaan shouted after him. The Archadian reached out a cautious hand to touch one. Yes, they were quite firm, and they wouldn't grant him an inch either way, like stone. Vaan babbled on at high speed, as if Balthier could leave at any second, vinewall or not. "I - I'm not crazy. I mean I don't think I am! But how else --- I think this all has to do with this seed. Someone gave it to me when I lived back in Rabanastre, and it healed me. I---"

"Healed what? The cut she gave you? Soaked up all the blood and closed the skin?"

Vaan hesitated. "How… how did you know about that? I never told anyone."

"Because I was there," Balthier responded, lightly gripping the vines with his whole hand.

"B. vB?"

"Pardon?"

"I should have remembered when you told me your name." He tangled his hands in his hair. "I mean, it was too much of a coincidence, but I wrote it off. I pretended I didn't remember, but your initials were right on the damn napkin-!"

"Handkerchief."

Vaan looked up sharply. "What?"

"I said it was a handkerchief, not a napkin."

The blonde laughed a little hysterically, making Balthier turn away from the vines. "What does it matter? I- I'm still… I can hear _trees_ speaking to me. I mean, I always thought flowers could speak. I thought I was pretending to hear them, making up conversations in my head when I was lonely, but it turns out I really am insane. And now I meet you!" Vaan laughed again, and there was no question about hysterics. Balthier crossed the room to stand in front of Vaan.

"I think you're taking this a bit too seriously."

"_Too seriously?_ Balthier, I'm hearing voices!" Vaan gripped Balthier's arms in earnest. "You think I'm crazy, right? Do I still look like that little boy you helped? Would you have helped me if you knew I would turn out like this?"

**Crack.**

"You are still a little boy," he said gently, watching Vaan cradle his cheek with one hand. _And that's why I can't stay with you._ "And you aren't insane. Of all the beings in this world, with all of their differences, do you really think a hume can't be born to speak to trees? Maybe you have a little Viera in you."

Vaan hugged Balthier's waist tightly, resting his head on his navel. He laughed weakly. "I should go find where they live, maybe I have a whole family over there." Balthier let his hands stay on Vaan's shoulders and didn't answer for a while.

----

CHAPTER **SEVEN** END.

Okay. I'm done. Not pushing the envelope today. No sir.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Yggdrasil

**Author:** Yukari Youkai

**Rating**: T

**Pairing**: Bathier/Vaan

**Summary**: In exchange for a Galbana Lily, Vaan is given the key to change the universe. [AU]

**Chapter**: 8/?: _Your own personal Savior. Reach out and touch me!_

Notes: Vaan and Balthier have only been traveling for about four days. I took some artistic liberties and made the SalikaWood take up most of the mountain, so the Mosphorian Highwaste is going to be relatively short. Thanks to Midnight Forever for the beta-ing. 3

"Vaan."

"Mmmmfh."

"Vaan," Balthier repeated, bored but insistent. The blonde rolled over, curling further into himself. Balthier snorted and rose from his seat on the cooling meadow grass, facing the twilight sun. It was getting dark, something both of them had learned to equate with danger. Balthier nudged Vaan roughly with his boot until the boy pushed himself into a sitting position. His hair was cowlick-y and tousled in adorable ways, which made Balthier smooth down his own hair self-consciously.

"'M up, you mother fudding… bleh." The blonde hung his head, tangling a hand in his messy fringe, apparently too tired for words. Balthier told himself he didn't feel even a _smidgeon_ of superiority.

"Vaan, may I suggest you learn to become a light sleeper?" he asked innocently. At this, the boy made another hopelessly sleep-strangled sound (that the Archadian had no way of translating) and waved his hands about in a rather limp manner that was probably supposed to mean something vulgar. Balthier snorted lightly at his display and walked a short ways away to gather twigs and dry leaves.

As he carried them back to their 'camp' (marked only by their sleeping imprints in the grass), his left leg stiffened painfully. He abruptly decided that he would make do with whatever he had gathered and set about to making a fire.

Vaan staggered to his feet piteously and took a swig from his water skin, swirling the water around in his mouth and spitting it out to the side. He stretched, standing on the balls of his feet and letting his hands strain for the sky. Balthier wasn't watching, of course, so he couldn't have seen how Vaan's flimsy vest brushed just above his ribs, exposing more skin than was strictly necessary. No, he was dutifully tending the fire, like any other non-interested person would do.

Vaan leaned back into his heels, frowned at the man in general and walked the few steps of distance between them. "That's not how you make a fire, ya know," he commented. "You won't get warm very fast that way."

"I know what I am doing," the man replied without looking away from the burning pile of sticks.

"Whatever. What's the point of that anyway? We can't stay here that long." As he spoke, the small flame grasped on to one of the larger sticks Balthier had supplied and crackled, sending a few sparks in random directions. Balthier rose, dusting the seat of his pants off, and picked up his travel gear. "What? Wait!" Vaan sputtered. "You're just gonna _leave_? What about the fire? …Balthier! Stop walking away and _answer me_! Balthier!!" Balthier continued to travel forward, without any reaction to Vaan's temper tantrum. "I can't _STAND_ you sometimes!" Vaan released a noiseless word of rage and stomped after him without another sound.

--------

They walked mostly in strained silence. Vaan wanted to yell at Balthier until the cactuars came home, but refrained because It was nighttime, the most dangerous time of day. The myst-monsters, like that horse that kidnapped Thorne, came out for the hunt when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. No sense in making unnecessary noise. Daylight had become a precious commodity, as it was a time for sleeping and healing up. Vaan would take all the sleep he could get. So that left him the spare moments when it was neither day or night. Considering that, Vaan was usually suffering from an overflow of anger directed at Balthier. Twenty minutes of free time wasn't enough to get it all out, and even if it was, Balthier was always distracting him with something new and profoundly stupid.

Like the fire. Why would he purposefully leave an open fire behind like that? Did he want them to be followed or something? There went Balthier, playing the role of the adult again. And little baby Vaan just had to shut up and take it, right? Wrong. He hated it! He hated Balthier! It wasn't like Vaan was stupid or something; he was already seventeen. Would it hurt for Balthier to talk to him like they were equals once in a while?

But they weren't, at least not in Balthier's eyes. Vaan wasn't an heir to old money, he wasn't even born in the Archades. All the things that mattered to Balthier, Vaan didn't care about. But somehow, the things that mattered to Vaan made sense to the Archadian. He understood Vaan on some level that he shouldn't have. It didn't make any sense to Vaan how Balthier could be that cool and that infuriating at the same time.

Actually, Balthier was pretty good at being both at once. Vaan scratched his arm absently as he thought about that night, when Balthier had…

_Shick_.

Vaan snapped to attention, his eyes immediately catching on the moonbeams refracting off the daggers Balthier pulled out. He slowed down his breathing, stopping a good few feet apart from where Balthier stood to make them less of a target. In front of them, a massive darkness moved and grunted, shuffling in their general direction. As it stepped forward, the weak moonlight offered only the bare outline of it. Vaan could barely make it out, but he stretched out a hand nonetheless.

"Fira!" he shouted as a spiraling line of fire erupted somewhere near the bulky shadow's shoulder. It roared as it was struck and stepped forward into the light. Vaan groaned. It looked like a bull standing up… what was the word for it?

"A minotaur!" Balthier muttered in amazement.

"So?" Vaan asked, a little peeved that Balthier had figured it out before him. The man glanced at him from the corner of his eye and then sprinted forward. "Hey!" Vaan staged-whispered. It wouldn't hurt to be cautious. There was no guarantee this thing was alone.

But Balthier ran full tilt for the Minotaur, right in his line of vision. _You've got to be fucking kidding me,_ Vaan thought. The beast raised its massively hairy arm to swipe at him, and Vaan covered him "Blizzard!" The air around the creatures face crystallized and blew into its face, distracting it enough for Balthier to roll under its legs and slice into its back. It roared again, hideously loudly, turning right to the cause of its pain, ready to smack Balthier right into the surrounding forest.

Suddenly, a sprout of fire burned the tip of the minotaur's left ear. "Hey, mino-moron! Over here!" Vaan shouted. "Yeah, that's right! Come and get some!" Balthier used the time the beast was confused to throw his daggers into the nearest tree, sprinting after them, and used them as footholds to spring backward onto the significantly taller minotaur's back. Vaan viciously swung out his axe to incapacitate it at the knees and Balthier pulled out a nice pointy dirk with his free hand. "Hrah!" Vaan cried, throwing his axe away from him. The Archadian readied himself for his chance.

_The soft spot is under the throat, you see_, Balthier's memory repeated in his father's voice. The mental intrusion stilled him long enough for the beast underneath him to get on all fours. Balthier was so surprised by the motion that he looked up, catching Vaan's eye. The boy's face was pale and stricken. His lips formed the first syllable of his name before the man was hit in the temple by the handle of an axe.

Apparently the foul beastie was smarter than initially calculated. Knowing that Vaan had thrown the axe to hit his midsection, he ducked, killing two serpents with one arrow.

Balthier felt his legs stiffen from the shock, and then loosen. His grip on the dirk slipped, and it fell into the grass. After a spinning, whirling colorless moment, so did he.

----------

When Balthier opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. He was flat on his back, watching the stars dance in the sky. Beside him a fire crackled merrily, and on the other side of that fire, Vaan was curled up on his side. The whole scene reminded him of the first night they had set out for Golmore Jungle. When they hadn't known that the things that went bump in the night were very real and very fixated on eating them alive. It still didn't make much sense to Vaan or Balthier, but they figured once they got to the Viera, all the mysteries would untangle themselves.

At any rate, dream-Balthier sat up. He noticed that his leg didn't hurt, which didn't make sense. Hadn't he had almost got his leg bitten off by a chocobo the very first night they were out on their own? Except it was a little strange, that chocobo. A little more powerful than he remembered any chocobo being. And it had been white --- white like the snow on Bur Omisace, cold and pure.

A rustle in the underbrush had him sitting up and peering about. This had to be a dream. Neither he, nor Vaan, had weapons or a food pouch. The bush near his foot rustled this time, and he was seized with fear. Vaan was the spell-caster, not him, and even so, neither had weapons with which to channel their battle-magic. He tried to shrink back, or better yet, grab Vaan and run, but fear had rendered him immobile. And out from the bush popped a familiar feathered face: the white chocobo. Balthier felt the back of his neck break out into a cold sweat.

He found himself unable to think beyond that face. The fire, the forest and the stars above him all disappeared, leaving that face, and those eyes. Those eyes that moved closer and closer until he could see the myst that swirled within, hypnotizing…

_Maddening._

-------------

As he opened his eyes for the second time, he was enormously grateful for the weak sunlight that made him close them again. It meant no more Ivalice-damned Chocobo with malicious intent. Hot breath ruffled the top of his hair and his bangs. Balthier tried to take stock of

himself, but besides a curious wetness on the side of his forehead and a strip of cloth around his head, he felt just fine. Oh, and the arm stretched across his shoulder blades and the hand buried in his hair. He felt his head rise and fall and the breath moved his hair again.

He turned his head as much as he could without risking a really bad headache. His nose brushed against someone's well-defined abs. _Hmmm._ Even though he couldn't move enough to make out the person's face, he assumed he was resting on Vaan, who was a bit too close for comfort. Balthier sighed delicately, leaning his cheek against those abs again. It made sense the side of his head was wet; Vaan was as hot as a furnace. Balthier grimaced. _Desert babies._

Although, the close proximity explained the sweat, the latter didn't explain the former. Why was Vaan holding him this way, this close? Balthier was sure that the boy was at odds with him, seeing as he went out of his way to put distance between them. If it annoyed Balthier, who was the one instigating it, then it must have been upsetting Vaan to no end. But that was the way things needed to be if Balthier was to make back to the Archades in one piece. He didn't need some desert churl clinging to him when it was time for him to go. Which was why Balthier had a contingency plan. Take the boy to Golmore and then escape to Rabanastre on the first airship out to the Archades. Even if Vaan followed him to Rabanastre, how much plant life was he going to manipulate in a desert? It was a perfect, flawless plan.

No heartfelt associations that made the leaving that much harder. At this rate, Vaan would be glad to see him go.

At least, that's what he thought before he was sideswiped by a vagrant battle axe. Now… he wasn't so sure.

Another hour (or so) passed before Balthier got tired of going over his plan, practicing conversations in which Vaan would try to trap him in (some of them far beyond what Vaan's intelligence was capable of) and how he would get out of them. He had even taken to imagining Vaan's facial expressions during these conversations, and that is where he drew the line. Why should he try to pass time? He was awake, so Vaan should be too. And to HELL if he was going to be considerate of Vaan's sleeping time as if they were _friends_ or… lovers.

_Bah_, Balthier thought. Turning his face just so. He pursed his lips and began to blow onto Vaan's abdomen, hoping that would wake him. He couldn't really move yet, seeing as his mind and body were still a bit sluggish. (Which explained the hour long think session.) The boy above him shifted slightly, tightening his grip on his shoulders.

"Vaan," he tried, because this was no the direction he wanted the situation to move in _at all_. Although his voice sounded more like "vaaa…." or a dust mite crying out before it died. "vaaa…" he tried again.

"Mmm." This was getting nowhere. Balthier's expression turned from mildly annoyed to exasperated. If only had the strength to do more than to purse his lips at the situation. Vaan sighed again, simultaneously pulling the immobile Balthier closer and stretching out. Balthier closed his eyes as his face was pulled even _closer_ to Vaan's chest. He was so busy thinking about not thinking dirty thoughts, that he didn't notice Vaan's eyes sliding open, or Vaan laying him on his back and getting up. In fact, when Balthier finally opened his eyes, he was bewildered to find himself alone.

It annoyed him to that he couldn't sit up to look around. He tried to look around by just twisting his neck, but it hurt too much.

After a time, he calmed down enough to hear Vaan moving around. The gentle sound of the grass bending and moving as Vaan otherwise stomped about soothed him. He smiled to himself. Vaan really was a loud, clumsy person.

The exact kind of person he disliked.

----------------


End file.
